“The mission team’s ready,” Venkat said. “There was a minor turf war between the Ares-3 and Ares-4 presupply control teams. The

Ares-3 guys said they should run it, cause while Watney’s on Mars, Ares-3 is stil in progress. The Ares-4 team points out it’s their co-

opted probe in the first place. I ended up going with Ares-3.”

“Did that upset Ares-4?” Teddy asked.

“Yeah, but they’l get over it. They have 13 presupply missions coming up. They won’t have time to be pissy.”

“Mitch,” Teddy said to the flight controler, “What about the launch?”

“We’ve got a control room ready,” Mitch replied. “I’l oversee the launch, then hand cruise and landing over to Venkat’s guys.”

“Media?” Teddy said, turning to Annie Montrose.

“I’m giving daily updates to the press,” she said. “Everyone knows Watney’s fu@ked if this doesn’t work. The public hasn’t been this

engaged in ship construction since Apolo 11. CNN’s ‘The Watney Report’ has been the #1 show in its time-slot for the past two weeks.”

“The attention is good,” Teddy said. “It’l help get us emergency funding from Congress. Maurice, how’s the booster?”

“It’s al right for now,” said Maurice Stein, Director of Pad Operations. “But it’s not ideal. EagleEye 3 was set to launch. Boosters

aren’t designed to stand upright and bear the stress of gravity for long periods. We’re adding external supports that we’l remove before launch. It’s easier than disassembly. Also the fuel is corrosive to the internal tanks, so we had to drain it. In the mean time, we’re performing inspections on al systems every three days.”

Bruce shrugged. “If we don’t have any more problems, it’l be two weeks late. But we always have problems.”

“Give me a number,” Teddy said.

“15 days,” Bruce responded. “If I had another 15 days, I’m sure we could get it done in time.”

“Al right,” Teddy said. “Let’s create 15 days.”

Turning his attention to the Ares-3 Flight Surgeon, Teddy asked “Dr. Keler, can we reduce Watney’s food intake to make the rations

last longer?”

“Sorry, but no,” Keler said. “he’s already at a minimal calorie count. In fact, considering the amount of physical labor he does, he’s

eating far less than he should. And it’s only going to get worse. Soon his entire diet wil be potatoes and vitamin supplements. He’s been saving protein-rich rations for later use, but he’l stil be malnourished.”

“Once he runs out of food, how long until he starves to death?” Teddy asked.

“Presuming an ample water supply, he might last three weeks. Shorter than a typical hunger strike but remember he’l be malnourished

and thin to begin with.”

“Remember,” Venkat interjected, “Iris is a tumbler; he might have to drive a few days to get it. And I’m guessing it’s hard to control a rover when you’re literaly starving to death.”

“He’s right,” Dr. Keler confirmed. “Within 4 days of running out of food, he’l barely be able to stand up, let alone control a rover. Plus, his mental faculties wil rapidly decline. He’d have a hard time even staying awake.”

“So the landing date’s firm,” Teddy said. “Maurice, can you get it on the booster in less than 13 days?”

Maurice pondered. “Wel… It only takes 3 days to actualy mount it. The folowing 10 are for testing and inspections.”

“How much can you reduce those?”

“With enough overtime, I could get the mounting down to 2 days. That includes transport from Pasadena to Cape Canaveral. But the

inspections can’t be shortened. They’re time-based. We do checks and re-checks with set intervals between them to see if something

deforms or warps. If you shorten the intervals, you invalidate the inspections.”

“How often do those inspections reveal a problem?” Teddy asked.

A silence fel over the room.

“Uh,” Maurice stammered. “Are you suggesting we don’t do the inspections?”

“No,” said Teddy. “Right now I’m asking how often they reveal a problem.”

“About one in twenty launches.”

“And how often is the problem they reveal a would-be mission-failure?”

“I’m, uh, not sure. Maybe half the time?”

“So if we skip the inspections and testing, we have a 1 in 40 chance of mission failure?” Teddy asked.

“That’s 2.5%,” Venkat said, steeping in. “Normaly, that’s grounds for a countdown halt. We can’t take a chance like that.”

“ ‘Normaly’ was a long time ago,” Teddy said calmly. “97.5% is better than zero. Can anyone think of a safer way to get more time?”

He looked around the table. Blank faces stared back.

“Al right, then. Speeding up the mounting process and skipping inspections buys us 11 days. If Bruce can pul a rabbit out of a hat and

get done sooner, Maurice can do some inspections.”

“What about the other 4 days?” Venkat asked, stil frowning at skipping inspections.

Rich thought for a moment. “Would now be a good time for a vacation?” He asked.

Mike sighed. “You know what, Rich? I think now would be an ideal time for you to take a vacation.”

“Great!” Rich smiled. “I’l start right now.”

“Sure,” Mike said. “Go on home. Get some rest.”

“Oh, I’m not going home,” said Rich, returning to his calculations.

Mike rubbed his eyes. “Ok, whatever. About those satelite orbits…?”

“I’m on vacation,” Rich said without looking up.

Mike shrugged and walked away.

[08:01]WATNEY: How’s my care package coming along?

[08:16]JPL: A little behind schedule, but we’ll get it done. In the mean time, we

want you to get back to work. We’re satisfied the Hab’s is in good condition.

Maintenance only takes you 12 hours per week. We’re going to pack the rest of your

time with research and experiments.

[08:31]WATNEY: Great! I’m sick of sitting on my ass. I’m going to be here for

years. You may as well make use of me.

[08:47]JPL: That’s what we’re thinking. We’ll get you a schedule as soon as the

science team puts it together. It’ll be mostly of EVAs, geological samples, soil

tests, and weekly self-administered medical tests. Honestly, this is the best

“bonus Mars time” we’ve had since the Opportunity lander.

[09:02]WATNEY: Opportunity never went back to Earth.

[09:17]JPL: Sorry. Bad analogy.

The Whiteroom was abuzz with activity as technicians sealed Iris in to the specialy-designed shipping container.

The other two shifts watched from the observation deck. They had rarely seen their own homes in two months; a makeshift bunkroom

had been set up in the cafeteria. Fuly a third of them would normaly be asleep at this hour, but they did not want to miss this moment.

The shift leader tightened the final bolt. As he retracted the wrench, the engineers broke in to applause. Many of them were in tears.

After 62 days of grueling work, Iris was complete.

“The launch preparations are complete,” Annie Montrose said to the press room. “Iris is ready to go. The scheduled launch is 9:14am.

“Once launched, it wil stay in orbit for at least three hours. During that time, mission control wil gather exact telemetry in preparation for the trans-Mars injection burn. Once that’s complete the mission wil be handed off to the Ares-3 presupply team, who wil monitor its

progress over the folowing months. It wil take 414 days to reach Mars. ”

“About the payload,” a reporter asked, “I hear there’s more than just food?”

“That’s true,”Annie smiled. “We alocated 100 grams for luxury items. There are some handwritten letters from Mark’s family, a note

from the President, and a USB drive filed with music from al ages.”

“Any disco?” someone asked.

“No disco,” Annie said, as chuckles cascaded through the room.

CNN’s Cathy Warner spoke up “If this launch fails, is there any recourse for Watney?”

“There are risks to any launch,” Annie said, “but we don’t anticipate problems. The weather at the Cape is clear with warm

temperatures. Conditions couldn’t be better.”

“Is there any spending limit to this rescue operation?” another reporter asked. “Some people are beginning to ask how much is too

much.”

“It’s not about the bottom line,” Annie said, prepared for the question. “It’s about a human life in immediate danger. But if you want to look at it financialy, consider the value of Mark Watney’s extended mission. His prolonged mission and fight for survival is giving us more knowledge about Mars than the rest of the Ares program combined.”

“Do you believe in God, Venkat?” Mitch asked.

“Sure, lots of ‘em,” Venkat said. “I’m Hindu.”

“Ask ‘em al for help with this launch.”

“Wil do.”

Mitch stepped forward to his station in the large control room. He glanced at the many screens on the far wal, and the dozens of

people at their stations.

He put his headset on and said. “This is the Flight Director. Begin Launch Status Check.”

“Roger that, Houston,” came the reply from the Launch Control Director in Florida. “CLCDR checking al stations are manned and

Resting his chin on his hands, Mitch stared at the center screen. It showed the Pad video feed. The booster, amid cloudy water vapor

from the cooling process, stil had EagleEye3 stenciled on the side.

“QAM2.”

“Go.”

“QAM3.”

“Go.”

Venkat leaned against the back wal. An administrator, his job was done. He could only watch and hope. His gaze fixated on the far

wal’s displays. In his mind he saw the numbers, the shift juggling, the outright lies and borderline crimes he’d committed to put this mission together. It would al be worthwhile if it worked.

“FSC.”

“Go.”

“Prop 1.”

“Go.”

Teddy sat in the VIP observation room behind mission control. His authority afforded him the very best seat: front-row center. His

briefcase lay at his feet and he held a blue folder in his hands.

“Prop 2.”

“Go.”

“PTO.”

“Go.”

Annie Montrose paced in her private office next to the press room. Nine televisions mounted to the wal were each tuned to a different

network; each network showed the launch pad. A glance at her computer showed foreign networks doing the same. The world was

holding its breath.

“ACC.”

“Go.”

“LWO.”

“Go.”

Bruce Ng sat in the JPL cafeteria along with hundreds of engineers who had given everything they had to Iris. They watched the large

TV with rapt attention. It was 6:13am in Pasadena, yet every single employee was present.

“AFLC.”

“Go.”

“Guidance.”

“Go.”

Milions of kilometers away, the crew of Hermes listened as they crowded around Johanssen’s station. The 2-minute transmission time

didn’t matter. They had no way to help; there was no need to interact. Johanssen stared intently at her screen, which displayed only the audio signal strength. Beck wrung his hands. Vogel stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the floor. Martinez prayed silently at first, then saw no reason to hide it. Commander Lewis stood apart, her arms folded across her chest.

“PTC.”

“Go.”

“Launch Vehicle Director.”

“Go.”

“Houston, this is Launch Control, we are go for launch.”

“Roger,” Mitch said checking the countdown. “This is Flight, we are go for launch on schedule.”

“Roger that Houston,” Launch Control said, “Launch on schedule.”

Once the clock reached -00:00:15, the television networks got what they were waiting for. The Timer Controler began the verbal

countdown. “15,” She said. “14… 13… 12… 11…”

Thousands had gathered at Cape Canaveral; the largest crowd ever to watch an unmanned launch. They listened to the Timer

Controler’s voice as it echoed across the grandstands.

“10… 9… 8… 7…”

Rich Purnel, entrenched in his orbital calculations, had lost track of time. He didn’t notice when his coworkers migrated to the large

meeting room where a TV had been set up. In the back of his mind, he thought the office was unusualy quiet, but he gave it no further

thought.

“6… 5… 4…”

“Ignition sequence start.”

“3… 2… 1…”

Clamps released; the booster rose amid a plume of smoke and fire, slowly at first, then racing ever faster. The assembled crowd

cheered it on its way.

“…and liftoff of the Iris Supply Probe,” the Timer Controler said.

As the booster soared, Mitch had no time to watch the spectacle on the main screen. “Trim?” He caled out.

“Trim’s good, Flight.” came the immediate response.

“Course?” He asked.

“On course.”

“Altitude 1000 meters,” someone said.

“We’ve reached safe-abort,” another person caled out, indicating that the ship could crash harmlessly into the Atlantic Ocean if

necessary.

“Altitude 1500 meters.”

“Pitch and rol maneuver commencing.”

“Getting a little shimmy, flight.”

Mitch looked over to the Ascent Flight Director. “Say again?”

“A slight shimmy. On-board guidance is handling it.”

“Keep an eye on it,” Mitch said.

“Altitude 2500 meters.”

“Pitch and rol complete, 22 seconds til staging.”

The quick yet thorough design of Iris accounted for catastrophic landing failure. Rather than normal meal kits, most of the food was

cubed protein bar material. Even if Iris failed to deploy its tumble baloons and impacted at hundreds of kph, the protein cubes would stil be edible.

An unmanned mission, there was no cap on acceleration. The contents of the probe endured forces no human could survive. While

NASA had tested the effects of extreme G-forces on protein cubes, they had not done so with a simultaneous lateral vibration. Had they

been given more time, they would have.

The harmless shimmy, caused by a minor fuel mixture imbalance, rattled the payload. Mounted by strong bolts, Iris held firm. The

protein cubes inside did not.

The thrust compressed the food while the shimmy rattled it. An effect similar to liquefaction during an earthquake transformed the

protein cubes into a thick sludge. Stored in a compartment that originaly had no left-over space, the now-compressed substance had room

to slosh.

The shimmy also caused an imbalanced load, forcing the sludge toward the edge of its compartment. The shift in weight only aggravated

the problem and the shimmy grew stronger.

“Shimmy’s getting violent,” reported the Ascent Flight Director.

“How violent?” Mitch said.

“More than we like,” he said. “But the accelerometers caught it and calculated the new center of mass. The guidance computer is

adjusting the engines’ thrusts to counteract. We’re stil good.”

“Keep me posted,” Mitch said.

“13 seconds til staging.”

The unexpected weight shift had not speled disaster. Al systems were designed for worst-case scenarios; each did their job admirably.

The ship continued toward orbit with only a minor course adjustment, implemented automaticaly by sophisticated software.

The first stage depleted its fuel, and the booster coasted for a fraction of a second as it jettisoned stage-clamps via explosive bolts. The now-empty stage fel away from the craft as the second-stage engines prepared to ignite.

The brutal forces had disappeared. The protein sludge floated free in the container. Given two seconds, it would have re-expanded and

solidified. But it was given only a quarter-second.

As the second stage fired, the craft experienced a sudden jolt of immense force. No longer contending with the dead-weight of the first

stage, the acceleration was profound. The 300kg of sludge slammed in to the back of its container. The point of impact was at the edge of Iris, nowhere near where the mass was expected to be.

Though Iris was held in place by five large bolts, the force was directed entirely to a single one. The bolt was designed to withstand

immense forces; if necessary to carry the entire weight of the payload. But it was not designed to sustain a sudden impact from a loose 300kg mass.

The bolt sheared. The burden was then shifted to the remaining four bolts. The forceful impact having passed, their work was

considerably easier than that of their falen comrade.

Had the pad crew been given time to do normal inspections, they would have noticed the minor defect in one of the bolts. A defect that

slightly weakened it, though would not cause failure on a normal mission. Stil, they would have swapped it out with a perfect replacement.

The off-center load presented unequal force to the four remaining bolts, the defective one bearing the brunt of it. Soon, it failed as wel.

From there, the other three failed in rapid succession.

Iris slipped from its supports in the payload bulb, slamming in to the hul.